Things To Be Done
by AmyQueen95
Summary: When a deadly experiment takes a turn for the worse, Fang finds himself fighting for his life. There's no Max or Flock to save him this time; there's just Fang, armed only with his will to live-or die.


**Hello, everyone in Fanfictionland! This is my oneshot story that I am submitting to the Fang, Fang, FANG! contest (Drama/Suspense category)posted by the Maximum Ride Contests profile. I think it turned out fairly well, but why don't you read it and see what you think of it? I hope you all like character torment! *grins***

**Oh, and I don't own Maximum Ride.**

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"_We are now five minutes into the experiment, sir."_

"_Excellent, let me know if there is any change in the subject's condition."_

Lying helpless on the table, Fang gritted his teeth and tensed his muscles until they were as taut as iron cables. The agony had come so swiftly, without any warning or forbearing, like a thief in the night. As soon as they had pumped the poison through his IV it had crawled through his veins and into his body, invading his heart, his mind, his limbs and muscles, everywhere. It was as if the demons inside of him had suddenly been unleashed from the darkest part of his soul and were trying to eat their way out.

Fang knew that the pain was killing him.

"_The chemical is far more potent than we had anticipated, but we have orders to keep the subject on the substance for half an hour."_

"_His heart can't handle the stress for that long!" _

"_Orders are orders. Is the wristband secure?"_

"_Yes sir, there's no way he's ripping that IV out."_

The voices of the scientists were only echoes in Fang's head as his brain flamed and throbbed, pulsing and swelling like it was trying to break out of his skull. All thoughts were replaced with raw, unending pain, functioning at a level of torment that had been unfathomable for Fang until that moment. He could feel his eyes overflowing with tears and his body sweating profuesely as the pain continued to scorch his nervous system and churn his insides like he was an internal blender. If not for the lippitude of his eyes, Fang could have seen that his pores had stopped releasing sweat and were now beginning to seep blood onto his skin and the table.

"_It must be a reaction to the physical stress."_

"_His heart rate is off the charts!"_

"_We're fifteen minutes in, gentlemen."_

Had fifteen minutes already passed? The time had gone by in a frenzied blur for Fang, though not in a good way. Time was passing for him the same way distance would pass if you were strapped to the front of a fighter jet: with speedy terror and unbearable pressure. His heart was practically screaming, "Make it stop!" as the poison continued to spread and forced his heart to work on overdrive. He wondered how much longer it would be until he was finally granted his final solace.

Fang wondered if this was what Hell felt like.

"_This is incredible!"_

"_He can't keep this up forever."_

"_Get the team ready to revive him, and ask for permission to take him off the test substance."_

The pain continued to accelerate inside of him, rushing and rattling like a conquassate tsunami of blood and fever. His heart was pumping full force, beating almost as quickly as a hummingbird beats its wings. Faster and faster it pumped, the deluge of agony filling up Fang like a chalice overflowing with wine.

Fang lost all bodily control as he screamed out in anguish, letting go of any self-discipline or façade he had created. There was no trace of dignity left in his death. There was no more determined jaw-clamping or fist-clenching, no more delusions of Fang the Silent or Fang the Warrior; there was just Fang, a writhing, helpless boy, whose soul was being chewed out of his mortal body by unfathomable suffering. He could feel the tiny strings within him begin to snap under the tension—he could feel his very person hanging by a thread. There wasn't much time left.

"_The team's on standby, but we're not permitted to take him off the test substance. We're allowed to give him relaxants though."_

"_Which ones?"_

"_Try the product on the counter."_

"_That's not going to help him now, gentlemen."_

It was true. Fang's torment had now hit its climax, his nerves tweaking and sparking like an orchestra playing a loud, terrible song of conquest. The music of his pain grew louder and more violent, the violins and oboes and drums and horns all growing bolder and angrier and the tempo accelerating as Fang screamed whatever breath was left in his body. He thrashed violently one last time—his one last fighting stance—before becoming completely still. The song was over. The final thread had snapped. This was the end.

"_We lost him! Get the team in here now!"_

"_Sir, there's been a security breach!"_

"_Focus on reviving him right now, security can handle that!"_

As soon as his heart had stopped beating, Fang's mind had instantly been cleared of all worldly stress and situations. His unbound soul drifted out of his body and floated away from reality and the shouting voices, settling into a warm, comforting darkness; a temporary refuge for his spirit while he waited to see what would happen next. There was no way for Fang to tell how much time had passed as he floated alone in the darkness, but however long it was it gave him plenty of time to think about his feelings and his life in general.

Emotionally, he found himself caught between a sense of great relief and a sense of great loss. Fang wasn't sure he wanted to die. There had been so much he had wanted to do with his life, so many new things to see and promises to keep! Now all his hopes were stripped from him, his dreams and aspirations void and impossible, and in their place remained a chilling feeling of incompleteness. His life had been cut short, and the time he had used up while he was alive seemed wasted, now that he could look back and see everything he had been. He had helped save the world and yet his life still hadn't been complete.

Soon Fang was caught up in an elaborate montage of faces and recollection, the entirety of his life passing before him in a span of time that was both an instant and an eternity. Most people saw their life flash before their eyes right before they died—Fang's life flashed before him afterwards. As a lifetime of memories passed through his head, Fang felt like he was being told a story and then denied the ending...

_Once upon a time there was a boy named Fang, and he had wings. He was raised in a facility called the School and was rescued by a man named Jeb, along with five other kids winged kids. The six bird kids called themselves the Flock. When Jeb left, the oldest Flock member, Max, became their leader. She was destined to save the world. Fang fell in love with Max the first time she kissed him, when she thought he might be dying. Things got really complicated after that. It was difficult, but Fang finally won her heart over. There were still many dangers they had to overcome, but they had each other and they had the Flock. One day, however, Fang was kidnapped by some of the people who were trying to destroy the world and—_

That was where the story stopped.

Fang's reflection time was abruptly ended when suddenly the soothing darkness around him was torn open by a blinding light, a large hole sheared into the comfort blanket that surrounded him. Before he even had time to react, Fang felt himself being slowly drawn into the light, as if he was being reeled in by a rope through a large body of water. Though almost unbearably bright, the light seemed so safe, it so warm and infinite. But it felt wrong. Fang knew he was going to the wrong place, somewhere where he didn't belong. This wasn't how it was supposed to end.

Turning away from the light, Fang tried to move—walk, swim, glide?—away from it, but it was as if it had encased him in its solid rays of light, holding him in place as it pulled him closer to the epicentre of the glow. The distance between him and the light grew shorter as the land of the living grew farther and farther away.

However, before Fang got any closer to the light he felt a huge jolt; a powerful, jarring charge that rattled Fang and forced him back away from the light. It left him suspended in a strange mid-ground between his body and his eternity, a shadowy twilight that seemed to pull him in both directions. Once again he could hear the voices speaking outside of his body, but they were echoic, as if he were lying at the bottom of a deep hole and listening to conversations taking place above him.

"_We have to work fast. W__e need to have the experiment ready for emergency transport."_

"_It'll be a couple months before we can use him again, but if we can pull him out of this he should be fine."_

"_I'll say one thing: __these human-avian hybrids have some heavy-duty anatomy."_

Fang immediately drew back from the living voices. _They_ were still there—the people who did this to him, the ones who injected him with that awful burning poison. He wouldn't go back to them, he just couldn't. He would rather die.

Reluctantly, Fang turned back to where the light was waiting. _Come to me, _the light seemed to beckon, _this is your destiny. This is your final resting place._ Gently it began to pull him back towards itself, and once again Fang was caught in its grasping rays. However, this time he was less troubled by it, less afraid of what awaited him on the other side. Soon he was pulled so close to it that he could see nothing but the light. He was so close, so close to being consumed by the light forever. Maybe it wasn't so wrong after all.

However, just as quickly as he had been pulled towards the light he was suddenly jerked back by another invisible force. He watched with amazement as the light recoiled and hissed, turning to a pit of blood-red fire and sulphur. Fang was immediately horrified; he had almost been swallowed up by it!

_Now is not your time, Fang, _a quiet voice told his spirit. _There are still things to be done. _Fang was immediately overcome with relief and understanding as he realised what had just happened to him. He had been spared this time; there were things that he was still needed to do, and he had to complete those tasks before he could pass on. Hopefully his next death would take him to a better place.

Fang continued to rise away from the blackness where the light had once shone, and once again hear voices coming from the other side. This time, however, they were different.

"_They got him back for a second when they zapped him earlier; maybe we just need to zap him again!"_

"_Max, I don't know anything about defibrillators!"_

"_Then try CPR, mouth-to-mouth, anything!"_

"_Max, I'm telling you, he's gone!"_

_Those are m__y friends_, Fang thought, his spirits brightening. His spirit grew closer and closer to the mortal universe, until it seemed as if he could almost touch the living world with his presence. He tried to return to his body as his friends continued to fret over him, but he was unable to break through the darkness that served as a barrier between him and them.

"_He can't be gone!"_

"_I'm sorry Max, but—" _

"_Sorry isn't going to bring him back!"_

Fang's heart ached as his friends' sobs and shouting grew louder, and he pressed even harder against the unfaltering void. It seemed to laugh at him as he struggled to pass through it, mocking him and prodding him until he couldn't stand it anymore. _I want to live again, let me pass! _His spirit screamed, until finally the darkness gave way and he broke through the separation, resurfacing from the depths of the darkness much like a swimmer resurfaces in the water to breathe. As quickly as he had slid out of his body he slid back into it, and he began coughing and gasping for breath violently. Max and Iggy were standing over him, amazed and confused.

"Fang!" Max exclaimed, leaning down and kissing him. Her lips tasted like tears and joy. _Not a bad way to be welcomed back to the land of the living,_ Fang thought to himself.

Fang opened his foggy eyes and blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his vision. He could see Iggy standing beside Max, looking too excited and astounded to be grossed out by their intimate moment. "I don't understand," he said, clearly shocked, "you were gone. They were trying to revive you when we broke in and sent them running."

"I guess it wasn't my time," Fang whispered hoarsely, wrapping his blood-crusted fingers around Max's hand. The pain in his body had subsided greatly, but he could still feel the lingering effects as his sore muscles struggled to keep a grip on Max.

Max returned his grasp tightly as she used her other hand to wipe away the tears that were falling down her cheeks. "Please don't do that again, Fang," she whispered. "Please don't leave me."

Fang could barely stand to see the pain in her eyes, knowing he had caused it. "I'll try my best," he promised, wishing he could wrap his arms around her to comfort her. He was too weak to do that now. "Where are the others?" he asked.

"They're getting help from outside," Iggy told him, explaining that they had brought reinforcements. "We had to take down their security from the inside first."

As soon as Iggy finished speaking a team of paramedics rushed in with a gurney and medical supplies. Fang was quickly caught up in a whirlwind of medics and emergency equipment as he was lifted off the table and put onto the gurney, with at least half a dozen people all prodding and strapping him into position. He was quickly whisked down the halls and out to the helicopter on the landing pad outside, which was waiting to take him to the nearest hospital.

"We'll meet you at the hospital!" Max called after him as she and Iggy ran behind the paramedics.

"Yeah," Iggy added, "Don't die on us again!" Fang couldn't help but smirk from beneath the oxygen mask now strapped on his face. Leave it to Iggy to make wisecracks after Fang had just returned from the dead.

Once he was loaded inside the chopper, Fang couldn't see much because of all the medics surrounding him, but for a brief moment he was able to look out the window and see Max standing on the launch pad as the helicopter took off. It was hard being apart from her and the others after what had just happened, but he knew he would see them soon. He would definitely have plenty of time to visit with them while he was recovering in the hospital.

Fang knew that he was in really bad shape—not only because of his near-death experience, but because of the medics' frenzy over his current condition. The fact that his entire body was encrusted with blood was also a good indication that something was awry. Still, even though he knew there was a long road to recovery ahead of him, Fang was certain that his wounds would heal eventually. After all, there were so many things he still needed to do with his life.

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**And so ends the story "Things to be Done". I hope you all enjoyed it--after all, the point of a story is to please both the writer and their reader. Feel free to review, or vote for me when the Fang, Fang, FANG! contest closes, or just smile to yourself as you think about how nice the story was. Also, be sure to check out my previous fanfiction, "Zanna Assasin: Kill Maximum Ride", and hopefully I'll be posting my next multi-shot fanfic soon, as well.**

**Thank you for reading my story, and I hope it made your day a little better! Yes, I know that Fang almost died in the story, but why should that mean the story can't make you feel happy? *smiles***


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